Narcissism
by lunakatrina
Summary: It all started with a bit of unfortunate timing.  AU, doesn't really follow the later books, gen
1. Chapter 1

Just a random idea I had, I've written quite a bit on it, but I'm not sure where I want to head with it yet..I really like the way the characters have developed though-especially Dumbledore, I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've written him and he's not evil :O

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to with Harry Potter

_**Chapter One!**_

It all started with a bit of unfortunate timing.

Harry and Malfoy had been racing to catch the snitch, the game was tied so it all came down to who was a split second faster. It turned out to be Harry who got slightly ahead of Malfoy and was only a hairsbreadth away from the snitch's wings, when his hip nudged Malfoy's broom a little to the left and at that speed it caused Malfoy to lose control and start to slip. His loss of balance threw Harry off balance, and the two of them began falling to the right while one broom went left and the other went straight.

Their quidditch robes tangled as they kicked and threw their arms around trying to grab anything, which ultimately made things worse and when they finally crashed to the ground, they lay in a broken tangled heap.

* * *

Harry awoke in a completely unfamiliar place, and stared around the room in confusion. He then registered the lack of feeling in his body and became extremely alarmed, and even more so when he discovered he couldn't move.

He could still scream though, and half a dozen people in white immediately came running into the room he was in. They crowded around him examining him carefully, one of the people lit his wand and waved it in front of Harry's face.

This was all too surreal.

Then the man began very gently explaining things to Harry, "Mr. Potter, I'm Dr. Devian Grey, I've been treating the injuries you sustained during your last quidditch match-do you remember what happened?"

"Am I paralyzed?" Harry asked instead.

"No, certainly not, we've given you several potions to keep you from feeling pain, and we've immobilized you to make sure you can't make any of your injuries worse. Think of it as an invisible cast or split," Dr. Grey told him. "Your fall caused you some very severe injuries, and you're lucky that you were transported here as quickly as you were."

That reminded Harry… "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," Dr. Grey replied. "We expect you to make a full recovery in another two weeks. I must say you do have poor timing," the man teased, "a group of your friends just left-this is probably the first time you've been alone in days, actually."

That didn't do anything to make Harry feel better, oddly enough.

Dr. Grey began prattling on about exactly which potions he had administered to Harry in order to both heal and temporarily paralyze him, it sounded like quite a complicated cocktail, but after a few moments he fell back asleep and the last thing he heard was: "You talking about those damn potions always puts him to sleep."

The next time Harry woke up, Dumbledore was sleeping on the chair next to his bed. He was still in the same room, but now had a completely different view of it as he was now laying on his side.

Without thinking Harry sat up and looked around-the room was stark white, but against the wall there were several tables which housed potions and medical equipment. After he noticed that, he realized he was now able to move-he must have healed up well enough to have them release him from the potions' literal hold.

Dumbledore still hadn't woken up, and Harry noticed his wand was resting on the bed next to him. Harry suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed and didn't really want to talk to Dumbledore, nor did he want any other sort of attention.

As quietly as possible, Harry slid off his hospital bed, and could feel the extreme weakness in his legs and body. He examined his clothing-the hospital garb was quite different from in the muggle world, he noticed immediately-he was clad in a loose short-sleeved white shirt, and loose white pants.

Harry tucked his wand into the elastic waistband of his white pants and draped the white shirt over it. Then he nimbly made his way over to the door on bare feet, he just needed a moment to think-without Dumbledore being there telling him to think things he didn't want to even acknowledge.

The hallways were mostly empty, and the few people passing didn't seem to care about his presence. Harry made it several feet away from his room, when his legs began to feel incredibly heavy, his head spun, and his heart pounded. Harry quickly located a bench and collapsed upon it-immediately noticing exactly how achy his entire body was.

Harry remembered the doctors telling him he'd been in an accident during the quidditch game, and he began replaying through the game-he couldn't remember much about it, he remembered the points kept going back and forth between Gryffindor and Slytherin and he and Malfoy had been bantering back and forth, but with no real malice for once. They'd been too distracted by trying to find the snitch and end the game.

Harry ducked his head and tried to remember more than that, and found he couldn't remember anything past the first hour-he couldn't remember how he'd gotten hurt.

Harry began to feel even more physically exhausted, and he stared down at the floor. He knew he should go back to his room and speak to Dumbledore, find out what exactly had happened, but Harry couldn't really bring himself to actually talk to the man. This all felt very surreal and Harry felt very off, though it was probably all the weakness in his body…Harry didn't want Dumbledore to notice it.

After a while, more people began passing by, none of them stopped to ask him where he should be. Harry enjoyed the fleeting moment of anonymity, but after a moment one of the people walking past stopped.

From the shoes, Harry could tell it was a woman, and Harry could only see the pale blue hem of her robe and the hem of the matching darker blue cloak. Then the woman turned to face him, she stood there for a moment so Harry looked up.

It took him several moments to place the familiar face, but when he realized who it was he quickly looked back down and covered his face with his hands-as some attempt to hide…Harry felt so weird and weak, this wasn't right. And he couldn't remember what happened to him.

Then the woman delicately sat down beside him, several inches between them, and she placed her arm very, very softly around his shoulders.

The unexpected motion of comfort, from _Malfoy's mother_ of all people was jarring. Harry froze, and didn't dare move as his heart began pounding harder and making his head swim…

Harry slowly woke, his head was cushioned against something firm and warm and slightly uncomfortable.

The something then said, in a clean, feminine voice, "I'm sure he'll find his way back."

"I think he may need some help," A sleek, firm masculine voice replied, Harry knew that voice very well-Lucius Malfoy! Harry had _fallen asleep_ on Narcissa Malfoy, he realized with a jolt.

He was comforted by a soft hand on his arm, which seemed to have only slightly more substance than air. Harry shuddered, his head swimming, and tried to lift himself off the aristocratic woman…and found he couldn't.

"And I thought Draco was in bad shape," Narcissa Malfoy said in clear amusement, "Lucius, darling, do help-he's too weak to move."

Lucius Malfoy snorted and did indeed help Harry off of his wife's shoulder. Lucius pulled Harry to his feet, which in turn gave out under him. This didn't seem to alarm Lucius in the slighted and he threw Harry's arm around his neck and braced Harry's body with his arm.

"Now do you understand why we must take him back," Lucius asked his wife. "I am amazed he slept through the alarms though."

Narcissa seemed to bristle and responded, "He was obviously quite exhausted."

"I will admit I am impressed you managed to leave your room in this condition," Lucius told Harry, as he pretty much hauled Harry back to his room, Narcissa walked next to them, giving Harry a soft smile whenever he dared to look at her.

He just knew Malfoy would tease him for the rest of his life for falling asleep on his mother. Harry felt himself begin to blush in embarrassment, "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you."

"It's no inconvenience," Narcissa assured him.

Lucius, then, swept Harry up so that he was carrying Harry like an invalid and turned into a room that Harry immediately recognized as being his-the large amount of red-headed individuals made that quickly apparent. What was also apparent was that no one was pleased to see him being carried by Lucius Malfoy, death eater extraordinaire.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you managed to find Harry," Dumbledore said genially, despite the hard glint in his eye.

"Indeed, he was asleep on a bench-he must have exhausted himself while looking for the kitchens or whatever it is adolescent males do," Lucius Malfoy replied, lying easily, and he carefully deposited Harry's weak body upon the bed. "It would serve you well, Mr. Potter, to note that St. Mungo's has a full arsenal of house elves at your disposal."

"I will," Harry replied, and his eyes strayed to Narcissa who was still smiling softly at him. He quickly averted his eyes and saw Ron who was staring at Harry like he'd joined Voldemort or something…Harry decided he'd rather look at Narcissa.

Then Harry figured he should say something, because he'd slept on Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy had carried him back to his room.

"Thanks for your help," Harry said softly and he could feel shock, anger, and surprise well up in his guests.

Narcissa's smiled widened by just enough to make Harry flush down to his neck, and Lucius waved his hand as if it erased what had happened.

They then slipped from the room, closing the door behind them and Harry felt even more exhausted than before when yells sounded out around him.

Dumbledore quickly halted all the noise and turned his caring, concerned eyes onto Harry, "Are you quite all right, my dear boy?"

"Yes," Harry replied, "they didn't do anything to me, they just helped me back here."

"So what Mr. Malfoy said was the truth?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"Yes," Harry replied staring down at his hands.

"May I please speak to Harry alone," Dumbledore asked, and Harry bristled at the lack of trust the man had in him. Everyone slowly cleared out, leaving him and Dumbledore alone.

"I know you well enough to tell when you're lying," Dumbledore said simply.

"I left," Harry replied, "but I got tired and couldn't come back, then Mrs. Malfoy found me and sat down next to me, but I got even more exhausted and couldn't even move so she had to get Mr. Malfoy to carry me back."

"Ah," Dumbledore said looking more amused than troubled, "Mr. Malfoy was the one who was lying about what happened."

Harry nodded.

"Don't worry," Dumbledore told him, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure no one else noticed that there was drool on Mrs. Malfoy's shoulder."

Harry's flush got darker and his skin prickled uncomfortably as he shifted around in embarrassment.

"I must say I'm surprised by what happened," Dumbledore continued, "but you're probably more surprised than me."

"Can we stop talking about this," Harry asked, wishing he could just pass out again.

Dumbledore chuckled mirthfully, and Harry was glad someone found the situation funny.

"What are they doing here anyway?" Harry demanded.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly, and he replied, "Visiting young Mr. Malfoy, certainly."

Harry blinked and asked, "What's Malfoy doing here?"

"Draco?" Dumbledore asked pointedly, and Harry realized there were three Malfoy's in attendance today, and nodded weakly. "You don't remember, then. You and Draco took quite a fall at the end of the quidditch match-do you remember the quidditch match?"

"Part of it," Harry replied.

"Ah, yes, well, we're not quite sure exactly what happened, but needless to say your balance was thrown off and both of you lost control of your brooms. It was all quite sudden and the two of you fell and landed together. We had to immediately contact mediwizards from St. Mungo's to come and separate the two of you without causing more damage."

The door opened and Dr. Grey and his team quickly bustled in.

Dr. Grey chided Harry on leaving his room in his condition and then-when it was discovered-for placing his wand in his waistband. His warning sounded the same Moody's warning to stop carrying his wand in his back pocket.

"We were quite worried that both you and Draco would die from your injuries," Dumbledore said after Dr. Grey finished his lecture.

"You are quite a lucky young man," Dr. Grey informed Harry. "You managed to not gain any brain damage in spite of the cranial fractures."

"What about Malfoy?" Harry demanded, and then quickly corrected himself, "Draco?"

"He was better off than you were," Dr. Grey replied, "Your stomach-" He lightly poked Harry's extremely sore abdomen, "Saved his head from any severe damage, so he just suffered from broomlash, deep tissue bruises, and several broken bones."

"What about me?" Harry asked, "What all's wrong with me?"

Dr. Grey tapped his chin thoughtfully with his wand, which made Harry want to lecture _him_ about proper wand usage, and then replied, "We patched up your skull and head first, so they shouldn't bother you. You dislocated your right shoulder, broke your left hand, fracture several of your ribs, you have several bruised organs from where young Mr. Malfoy's head hit, and we had to entirely regrow your legs and feet-I'm quite surprised they held your weight long enough for you to leave your room."

That explained the weakness Harry had in his legs then.

"All in all, you're doing quite well," Dr. Grey told him. "You've been here for two weeks, and you're almost fully recovered. We simply need to build up your strength and wait for your organs to be able to function without the aid of potions."

Harry looked over at Dumbledore, who didn't seem fazed by what Dr. Grey just said, though Dumbledore had probably heard all of this several times before. Harry rubbed his eyes, and then froze. He dropped his hands and stared around the room.

"Where are my glasses?" Harry demanded quickly, and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before-he could see without his glasses.

"Glasses?" Dr. Grey asked curiously, "You wear glasses?"

"Yes," Harry replied, he'd thought it was common knowledge, "but…"

"We did notice an abnormality in your eyes," Dr. Grey murmured thoughtfully, "I don't recall approving any eye repairs, but in emergency situations like yours, very often everyone repairs anything they can find wrong as quickly as possible."

"So, my eyes are…fixed?" Harry asked, slowly.

"If you can see better than you normally can, then it would be safe to assume," Dr. Grey replied with a smile. Then one of Dr. Grey's team-members came up with a tray covered in potions.

"You'll need to take all of the potions on the tray," Dr. Grey informed him, and then he went to confer with his team.

Harry stared at the huge number of potions on the tray, and felt dread.

"Harry," Dumbledore needled gently.

Harry lifted one of the potions and drank it, then washed it down with another-which tasted very foul. Harry gagged violently and shook his head.

Dr. Grey was scribbled on a plain bound book of parchments, frowning, as his team continued to talk to him.

Harry decided to take as many of the potions as quickly as possible, and wondered how they'd given him all these when he was unconscious.

"Mr. Potter, have you noticed any other odd symptoms," Dr. Grey asked him, "excluding your eyes?"

Harry coughed at the awful taste of one of the potions and noticed his legs were tingling, he looked down and his legs were twitching uncontrollably.

"One of the potions was a minor muscle stimulant for your legs, to improve your muscle tone," Dr. Grey explained, and Harry decided that it would be okay. "Was there anything else that concerned you?"

"Nothing really," Harry replied, "I mean, I feel a little weird, but nothing I can place my finger on."

Dr. Grey seemed to accept this and began writing again as he conferred with his team.

"Is there something specific you're wanting to know, Dr. Grey?" Dumbledore inquired.

"There may be," Dr. Grey replied, "we'll need to run a few tests, but it's certainly nothing to be alarmed with. We'll have definitive results in a couple of hours."

"What do you think may be wrong?"

"There may have been a harmless mix-up, one of your tests is showing a minor change in magical signature. We will test Mr. Malfoy and see if he's exhibiting the same symptoms, if so then that means there may have been a harmless exchange of blood during the accident."

Harry looked to Dumbledore to see what that meant, but Dumbledore merely looked pensive.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, since Dumbledore was no help.

"It's a rather common effect of shared injuries," Dr. Grey explained, "some magic is carried in blood and if blood is shared then it can lead to slight, temporary changes in magical ability. With the vast and serious nature of your injuries there were naturally many open wounds on both of you, and it would only make sense that-"

"Some of _his _blood is in my body?" Harry demanded, not sure how he felt about that.

"Possibly, but we'll need to perform a small test," Dr. Grey replied. "And if there was an exchange, then the effects will only be negligible and very short-lived."

* * *

Malfoy was released almost a week before Harry was, and on their way to pick him up, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy stopped by his room. Lucius stood by the door, looking uncomfortable as Narcissa sat down, very lightly, on the edge of Harry's bed. She gave him a small box, that Harry recognized as being the same as the ones she often sent her son at Hogwarts. It was vaguely horrifying to have this happen as Ron and Hermione were visiting.

She then asked him how he was improving, and whether or not Harry wanted Draco to send him assignments and notes.

As this short conversation went on, Ron became progressively more and more red and he looked like he wanted to explode. Hermione's brow was furrowed and she bit her lip furiously in confusion.

When the Malfoy's left, Ron did explode and Harry yelled back, "They just brought me back here when they found me!"

"Harry, why would she bring you a _care package_?" Hermione asked, sounding as if she didn't expect answer, but would dearly like one.

"I don't know!" Harry growled, and he stared down at the box in his lap, which had a small card with his name on it attached to a green ribbon-it was the same color as his eyes. The gift itself was wrapped in golden paper.

"Do you think you should open it?" Hermione asked as Ron quietly seethed.

"I don't know," Harry sighed and set it down on the bed next to him. "I'm so confused."

The three of them, after a while decided it would be best to wait until Dumbledore or someone else could check to see if the gift was safe…and of course, it was.

Narcissa sent cookies and candies, and a shiny gray scarf. It really was just a care package that any parent would send to their child, but Harry wasn't their child. Harry had only encountered them a couple of times before, and none of those times were friendly meetings.

* * *

That's it for now, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter's a bit shorter than the first, but worry not there's plenty more to more- -this was just a good stopping point :) Dumbledore is in this chapter, boy do I love him, he's the best ever in this fic!

Disclaimer: still down own any of this

* * *

**Chapter Two**

It was all incredibly confusing and by the time Harry was discharged from St. Mungo's his brain was still reeling from it. It also didn't help, that during his first breakfast back in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, another care package arrived for him. The owl first stopped by the Slytherin table to give Malfoy his to make things even more awkward…though his flushed face certainly wouldn't help ease the situation.

Malfoy didn't even seem upset by the fact that his mother had taken an interest in Harry or that his father had carried Harry back to his bed. In fact, Malfoy didn't even seem to care that Harry was around-when normally they'd spend meals glaring at each other.

Harry was about to open his care package from Mrs. Malfoy, when it began to dawn on him that just because Malfoy was taking it well didn't mean everyone else would. Everyone around Harry was staring at him in shocked horror, and Harry flushed and stared down at the box, this time wrapped in light blue with white ribbons.

"She sent you another one?" Ron all but shrieked, his face bright red-this would be comical in any other situation. The other Gryffindors became even more unsettled upon finding out this had happened before, his housemates began whispering around him and it made Harry's ears burn.  
Harry frowned and fiddled with the name card, he could never admit it to Ron, but it was nice to get a care package-he'd seen so many other students get them over the past few years and while it was nice to get a thing or two included in Ron and Ginny's care package from Mrs. Weasley…it was much nicer to have a gift all to himself.

"Harry, you should probably have this one tested for safety as well," Hermione advised him softly, and Harry deflated even more though he still plucked at the delicate white ribbon. She was probably right though, these were the Malfoys after all.

Harry's response was cut off by the arrival of Professor McGonagall, "Mr. Potter, the headmaster and I need to speak to you."

"What for?" Harry asked, though he'd already stood up.

"You've missed four weeks of school," McGonagall replied, "you're quite behind the other students."

Harry took his bag and his gift and followed obediently behind her, Dumbledore met them at the door leading out of the great hall.

"Another gift from Mrs. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, sounding like a child at the prospects of a treat.

"Yes," Harry replied, "I haven't opened it yet, though."

"Well, what's the point of getting a present if you don't see what's inside?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling brightly, and Harry took that as a sign that it should be safe to open the gift. Harry carefully opened it as they walked, so as not to drop something.

"Éclairs?" Harry said curiously after opening the box. There were five in the box, so Harry offered one to Dumbledore and McGonagall. Dumbledore took one very cheerfully, and began going on about sweets.

"Well, it is a bit early," McGonagall said in obligatory protest, "but…a slight indulgence shouldn't cause much harm."

Beneath the éclairs and warded against their mess was a pair of soft, grey leather gloves. Harry wondered if next time she would send a hat, and then immediately realized that he shouldn't expect there to be a next time.

"And gloves?" Dumbledore inquired curiously, trying to peek into the box.

McGonagall huffed in amusement and said, "Those will come in handy when it gets colder."

"Especially now that you've broken your hand," Dumbledore said wearily, "I broke my leg when I was just slightly older than you, and ever since then when the weather turns cold I find it difficult to wear purple socks-this has caused me a good deal of grief, but I find that whenever I wear long underwear, my purple socks cause me less discomfort. In summary, keep your hand quite warm so that it doesn't adversely affect your quality of life."

Harry had no clue what to say to that, and clearly neither did Professor McGonagall. Also, Harry didn't dare ask whether the effect would be compounded by all the other bones he'd broken and fractured recently and in the years before.

"Did I ever tell you, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore asked, excitedly launching into some new tale, "of the time when I went to Spain and I ran into an older woman who cursed me with arthritis of the ear?"

Harry blinked in confusion several times, and wasn't sure if he should ask for more details, but Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in invitation.  
Harry finally, slowly responded, "…er…no."

"Ah, yes, well it was during my rebellious phase and I'd decided to travel and see the world, and I'd made my way to Spain after being shanghaied into the French Foreign Legion-but that's another story, and needless to say I defected-and I'd come upon a magical area and I'd been wandering around when I came upon this hag of a woman who asked me for money. I'd told her I'd none to spare, and she cursed me with arthritis, of the ear. And my dear boy, that is the worst arthritis there is-you see, there are tiny little bones in your ears which control your balance and hearing, and mine, when the arthritis flares, swell up and make it difficult for me to hear the music produced by pianos."

Thankfully, they'd now reached the headmaster's office, and Harry hopefully wouldn't have to listen to anymore of Dumbledore's ridiculous stories…today, anyway.

"Now, ideally, Mr. Potter, we'd like to have you up to speed as quickly as possible," McGonagall said as soon as they'd all gotten into the office. "I've spoken to all the professors and we've worked out some ways to get you caught up without having to be taken out of normal classes."  
McGonagall produced several papers and laid them out before Harry, who realized these were possible timetables for him to choose from.

"For transfigurations, the group of 6th year Ravenclaws are a couple of weeks behind, and you could join them in their classes, and do some extra coursework later in the day to earn back your missing grades," She explained, and then she went through all the other classes in a similar manner and explained each timetable. Then finally she concluded, "Worst case scenario, we'll have to spend Christmas break-if you were planning on staying, you normally do," Harry nodded that he would be staying, and she continued, "Then we can use the break to get you all caught up so you can go back to your former schedule by January at the very least."

Harry studied the possibilities before him, some classes would be spent with students from other houses, some would be spent in individual study, one of his electives would have to be dropped so that he wouldn't be too overworked.

Harry wasn't too sure which schedule to choose, it wasn't like one would grant him more time with his friends than another…and meals were served at the same time for everyone. Harry just finally picked one and said that he'd like to drop divinations.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a smile, "and if you'd like we could give you this week to continue your studies individually, if you think you could be motivated enough to study and work on your own."

Harry wasn't sure he was ready to face people just yet, especially considering what happened at breakfast, "I think I could study on my own, I'll try to get as caught up as possible."

"Then I'll collect study materials from your professors and have them to you by lunch," McGonagall told him with a smile, "now if you'll excuse me, I have class."

Harry was left alone with Dumbledore who smiled at him, and instead of offering sweets asked for another of Harry's éclairs. Harry handed Dumbledore one and then ate the last one himself, he could already begin to feel the sugar buzzing through his veins. This must be how Dumbledore feels all the time, Harry realized.

"Some concern has been expressed over your recovery," Dumbledore began once he'd finished his second éclair. "You are still taking a few potions, are you not?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, "I'm still taking the one that aids in digestion, the rest are for my legs."

"I'm sure it's never come to your notice that the castle is quite large," Dumbledore said.

"It's huge," Harry corrected, confused.

"It will seem even larger to someone who finds themselves unable to walk long distances," Dumbledore informed him.

So that's what this conversation was about, "I was discharged from the hospital, they said I was fine! And besides, I won't be going to classes for another week anyway!"

"So I informed those asking after you," Dumbledore agreed. "However, if you found the task daunting, then feeling as though you must put up a tough act would not help your recovery-you're welcome to ask for breaks or time away from class, if you need to. Do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry replied, staring down into the gift box that had only a pair of gloves in it.

* * *

Harry spent the week studying more than even Hermione, and after that he'd have to go to professors and perform spells, or complete tests to show his progress.

Hermione and Ron, every evening would demonstrate the most interesting things they'd learned in classes and try to help Harry get as caught up as possible in every subject, but after the exhausting week, Harry was still two weeks behind his Gryffindor classmates.

Next week, Harry was to be rejoining regular classes, even if they weren't with his housemates, Mrs. Malfoy sent a small box of very nice chocolates, but there was no other gift this time-Harry tried not to feel disappointed because he was lucky to just receive the chocolates. He also got a letter from Remus asking how he was doing and apologizing for not seeing him sooner. Remus was apparently busy with something besides the full moon. He promised to come and see Harry as soon as possible and reminded Harry not to overexert himself...Harry decided he must have been the one to write Dumbledore about whether or not Harry could walk around the castle on his own.

Harry felt a bit touched and annoyed by that, but he finally decided it was touching

After breakfast, Harry had transfigurations with the 6th year Ravenclaws first, when all the Gryffindors had Charms, and he keenly felt the difference, even though it had been weeks since he'd last had class with them. It also became readily apparent why the Ravenclaws, of all the houses, were so behind.

"Professor, I have a question!" One of the students declared as soon as McGonagall arrived.

"Just one?" McGonagall asked in seeming disbelief.

"Well," the student said, embarrassed, "five and a half."

McGonagall sighed and said, "Today I will only permit ten questions to be asked during this class, all others will have to be dealt with during my office hours."

All the students gasped in horror, except Harry whose eyes widened in a mixture of shock and terror.

"Then I just have one question, professor," the student sighed, "while doing some research for the assignment I noticed a curious discrepancy between plant to metal transfigurations and wood to flesh transfigurations-"

This was going to be a very long class, Harry could tell.

Following that was Charms with the Hufflepuffs, which was almost as dangerous as an encounter with Voldemort. Harry was one of the lucky ones and only had his eyebrows burned off, so he didn't have to go to the hospital wing when Flitwick released them 20 minutes early for that exact purpose.

Then it was lunch and Harry was questioned by nearly all of housemates, asking him if he was okay, because he apparently looked like he was in shock.

"Your eyebrows!" Hermione gasped in surprise, "What happened?"

"Hufflepuffs," Harry replied grimly, and stared down at his stew, imagining that was how he would look after his next charms class.  
Harry was quite ready to be placed back into his usual classes, he'd liked his classes and his classmates just they way they'd been before. Not only that, but he'd had enough danger for this school year-he was getting a bit burnt out-literally! His eyebrows were burnt off!-on danger…Harry wondered if he could ask to study charms by himself until he was caught up.

* * *

Tis all for this time!


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so this has more Dumbledore in it and lots of Harry and Draco being...Harry and Draco

Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: none of this belongs to me

**_Chapter Three!_**

After dinner, Harry was preparing to go back to Gryffindor tower so he could play exploding snap or practice spells with Hermione and Ron, but he was blocked off by an unkindness of Ravenclaws.

"Potter," one of them greeted, "we heard you're going to be in our Defense class too."

"Yes," Harry replied, glancing cautiously over to Hermione, silently pleading with her to save him.

"We have a study group," the Ravenclaw continued, "every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after dinner."

"Well, that's…useful," Harry replied haltingly, not liking where this was headed at all.

"If you're going to be in our class, then you have to come too."

"I'm only in your class temporarily," Harry protested, "besides it's not like my grades effect yours!"

"We can't have you bringing down our class average!"

"Besides, what if you figure out something we don't know and you make us look like fools!"

"We have to plan out our questions so we don't go over our limit!"

Harry stared at them in shock, "I don't think-"

"No, you don't, you never think!" One of the Ravenclaws said fiercely, "You can't make us look bad, Potter! We're already behind the other classes, you can't make us look worse!"

Harry turned to Hermione, pleading for help, but she merely looked like she _wanted_ to join their group, and not save him from it.

"Scar-face!" Someone called from behind him, Harry didn't care that it was Malfoy, he was just glad _someone_ saved him.

"What is it Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

"Temper, temper," Malfoy chided. "I accidentally took your letter from _mummy_ this morning. I didn't open it," Malfoy held the letter out and Harry flushed in complete embarrassment. "She'll expect a reply, though, or she won't send you any good sweets."

Malfoy smirked as he watched Harry squirm and didn't seem to care that his mother was treating Harry like she treated her own son. He instead seemed completely amused by the entire situation and was managing to tease him about it?

"Why is Malfoy's mother sending you letters?" Hermione demanded.

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, noticing a tugging feeling on the top of his head, which he realized was from him pulling his own hair in frustration.

"Well, it's quite simple really," Malfoy told Hermione with a wicked grin, "Potter, here, ran away-"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Harry yelled.

Malfoy only got louder and grinned more widely, "-And my mother happened-"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Mother said she sent you gloves that matched the scarf she sent," Malfoy teased. "How _sweet_!"

"Are you making fun of your own mother?" Harry demanded.

"Of course not," Malfoy replied, confused, "I'm making fun of you. I'd never make fun of my mother, as you know she's a very generous, loving woman. However, _you_ got _so _embarrassed-"

"Argh!" Harry yelled and he grabbed the letter from Malfoy's mother and ran away.

Later, Harry realized that Malfoy _had_ helped him escape the Ravenclaws, because the "letter" was actually an empty sealed envelope. Of course, that wouldn't make things any easier to explain to Ron and Hermione…or why he'd even taken time to grab the envelope before running away.

* * *

Harry shifted in his seat in the stands as he watched his team practice, he wasn't quite ready to join back in them-not only that but he'd been expressly forbidden from doing any strenuous physical activity until he stopped taking his digestive potion and Madam Pomfrey had decided he needed to continue taking for at least another week. At least he had been able to stop taking that one potion that made his legs twitchy for an hour.

Harry watched them flit around like hummingbirds and sighed, he couldn't help but feel extremely left out, but when he closed his eyes and could picture in his mind the moment that his memory had become fuzzy during his last game. He remembered smirking over at Malfoy and itching to grab the snitch which was right behind him, but he'd waited because Malfoy would've been able to grab it before him once the snitch's position became known.

If Harry had at least tried for it, then things would be very different right now.

Harry tightened his scarf around his neck, it was beginning to get quite chilly, and wished he'd brought gloves, but he'd decided that the scarf and gloves together were a bit matchy-matchy.

Harry heard Ron holler at one of the beaters for hitting a bludger a bit too close to him.

Harry wished he could remember what happened in the second half of that game, he'd heard several different takes on what happened and they'd all ended the same. No one had been quick enough to cast a cushioning spell or otherwise halt the crash-course he and Malfoy ended up taking.

Everyone kept saying how lucky they'd been, but Harry couldn't help but that that real luck would've kept them from falling in the first place.

Harry's luck never seemed to work that way though, his luck only seemed to kick in when it came time to keep him from actually dying.

The three chasers sped past him at a speed that made him feel uncomfortably hot and made his stomach twist tight with anxiety. Harry shook his head, not understanding why he'd be so effected by what happened when he couldn't even remember. He also couldn't understand why it made legs feel more exhausted than they had when he'd slowly climbed his way up the stands.

Harry felt like he was a hundred years old, weak and feeble and unable to do anything without having some sort of negative physical reaction to it. Harry hoped this would pass soon.

* * *

Harry had Care of Magical creatures with his usual class because Hagrid had expressed no concern over Harry falling behind during his extended absence.

"So, Potter, did you write my mum back?" Malfoy asked, with a smirk.

Harry just gave him a dispassionate look.

"You're lucky I had that envelope handy," Malfoy declared haughtily, "who knew the golden boy couldn't defend himself from a bunch of neurotic Ravenclaws."

"Why would you even do that?" Harry demanded, "Wouldn't it make you so happy to see me suffer?"

"Potter, ever hear someone say they wouldn't even wish something upon their worst enemy?"

"Well, yeah," Harry replied.

"I wouldn't wish _them _upon my worst enemy," Malfoy finished with a pointed look to insinuate Harry was his worst enemy…because that apparently wasn't obvious. "I have potions with the Ravenclaws," Malfoy admitted, "they've made all the Hufflepuffs in their class study with them for hours every day, and they tried to make me do it too. I hexed them and told them they'd get in trouble for fighting too if they told-they've been leaving me alone."

"They had to change your schedule too?" Harry asked, "You got out of the hospital before me, though."

"_You _crushed both of my hands so I couldn't read a book without help or write," Malfoy told him accusingly.

"Well, they had to regrow my legs!"

"Boohoo," Malfoy taunted, "you can still do magic without legs!"

"Well considering you've already got a pretty big stick up your arse, you can just replace that with your wand and-"

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in horror and Malfoy snickered as he slunk away over to his housemates.

"He was asking for it," Harry sighed.

"I know," Hermione consoled him, "I'm glad we at least have some classes together. It's so weird not having you around."

"We all missed you _so_ _much_!" Malfoy crowed, and his friends laughed around him.

"Ignore him, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, he's just not worth it," Hermione agreed.

Malfoy smirked haughtily in his direction, and Harry glared back.

* * *

Harry spent most of his free time studying as much as possible so he could try to return back to his usual classes. He'd never before realized how much they'd covered during each class-and without constant disasters or questions, the Gryffindor classes moved along quite easily even if it took some students a long time to catch on to certain spells or techniques.

Harry had never before seen any advantage in Hermione's constant revision of everything they'd learned over the course of year, until now. Her notes and willingness to work with him over something they'd finished a couple of weeks ago made it that much easier for Harry to master the things he'd missed.

He'd work hard and with any luck he'd be able to return to Gryffindor classes within a couple of weeks.

Harry rubbed where his eyebrows were beginning to grow back in, he couldn't take much more of this!

Speaking of things he couldn't take much more of, Malfoy kept staring at him during meals, and not the sort of malicious staring Harry was used to, this was normal staring like when the Hufflepuffs would try to catch his eye so he could acknowledge they existed or whatever sick pleasure they got from doing it.

Harry was okay with normal staring from Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even not-evil Slytherins, but Harry was pretty sure that normal staring from Malfoy was just way too out of his strangeness range.

* * *

Later Harry was heading up to History of Magic, which had not specified the house he'd be joining. As he got closer to the room, he noticed Malfoy staring in wide-eyed horror at something at the front of the room. Harry, curious, walked faster to find out what could be so scary.

"Ah! Mr. Potter," Dumbledore exclaimed brightly, "I was just telling Mr. Malfoy here of my accidental journey to a goblin brothel in Germany."

"I will _never_ be able to unhear that," Malfoy, who looked a little green around the edges, informed Harry.

"Now," Dumbledore said, "do sit down, Mr. Potter! After a bit of work to try and figure out what you'd missed in your class, and being unable to find any concrete information. I, after conferring with Professors Snape and McGonagall, decided it would be best if I caught you up myself."

Harry swallowed, feeling dread fill his very being, while Malfoy looked like he was trying to figure out the best way to kill himself.

"I figured we could start with Merlin, who was always a favorite historical figure of mine," Dumbledore began brightly, "Merlin as you know was the greatest wizard of all time, which reminds me-I once met a very old man in a seedy bar just south of the Mexican border during my travels, and he told me that he had been the greatest wizard of all time and asked if I had any money, and I said I'd none to spare-"

Malfoy groaned and covered his face with his hands.

The hour went by as slowly as the laws of physics and magic would allow, and since Harry Potter was involved time moved even more exceptionally slow than it would've for just anyone else.

"-and that is how I discovered the 12 uses of dragon's blood," Dumbledore finished with a wistful smile. "Any questions?"

"If I were to stab myself with my quill, how long would it take to get ink poisoning?" Malfoy asked, "just so I can be prepared for next class."

"What did any of that have to do with Merlin?" Harry asked, "I'm wondering if I should change the heading of my notes from Merlin to Dumbledore Discovers the 12 Uses of Dragon's Blood."

"Oh my! I was supposed to be instructing on Merlin today," Dumbledore gasped, "no matter! I will cover him in full during our next gathering."

Harry and Malfoy fled the room as quickly as possible, and several yards away Malfoy grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into an alcove.

"Wha-"

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy hissed, and he held him place for a few more seconds. Then Dumbledore appeared, looking serene.

"Boys?" Dumbledore called, looking around curiously, "I just remembered, I forgot to assign reading!"

Malfoy slammed his hand down over Harry's mouth, so he couldn't respond.

"Hmm," Dumbledore murmured, "they sure are quick-part of being a seeker, I suppose!"

Dumbledore then meandered off, and Malfoy waited until she was sure Dumbledore was completely gone, before releasing Harry.

"Last time," Malfoy told him grimly, "he made me read his autobiography."

"Well, that doesn't seem-"

"He was _in love_ with Grindelwald," Malfoy informed him, face abject with horror, "and that's _what the book was about_."

Harry, never particularly quick on the uptake took a few moments to gather what Malfoy was going on about, but when it finally hit him, it hit him hard. Harry's jaw dropped and his face probably looked like "The Scream" and he let out a strangled, horrified noise.

Malfoy's eyes were widened empathetically in shared horror, "Exactly."

"Why is he even teaching our class?" Harry asked.

"Because he's old enough to have been there when the history happened?" Malfoy suggested in anger, "I don't know! This is the worst thing you've ever done to me, Potter!"

"Me?" Harry demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"If you'd just have let me take the snitch, neither of us would've fallen!"

"What? Are you sure?" Harry asked, "That's not what they said happened!"

"Argh!" Malfoy exclaimed in shock with a slight amount of fear, "why is it so hard to stay angry at you now!"

Then he ran away, leaving a very confused Harry alone in the hallway. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on with Malfoy, first he'd helped Harry get out of homework with Dumbledore and then they'd had an almost normal conversation? Why was Malfoy beginning to do normal things when it came to interactions with Harry…why was he only normal-staring at Harry during meals now? Why was he trying to keep Harry from having to do more schoolwork? You'd think he'd be happy to see Harry get tortured with more work!

* * *

"Potter," Malfoy said covertly as he sat down next to Harry in the Defense classroom that Thursday, apparently Malfoy was to be in class with him, "you and I have never been friends, and don't expect that to change. However, we need to show a united front against these Ravenclaw nutters or they'll force us to study with them."

"What exactly are you proposing, Malfoy?"

"A truce," Malfoy replied. "We work together to keep them at bay, so if you see them cornering me or vice versa then we intervene on the other's behalf. Also, if they bother us, we'll use up all of their questions in this class and whatever other classes we have with them, deal?"

"Deal," Harry agreed, wondering how it was possible for a group of Ravenclaws to end their long-standing feud. Though, Harry had been noticing slight changes to Malfoy's usual acerbic personality

"And about the questions," Malfoy said suddenly, "I'm sure this won't be a problem for you, but don't ask any good questions, they have to be useless so they'll really learn we're not messing around."

Harry nodded firmly in agreement, "That'll teach them."

* * *

It wasn't too much later that Harry found himself not glaring when he saw Malfoy at the Slytherin table over the weekend, which was a bit frightening…he'd been trying to keep appearances of hatred, even though Malfoy had been looking at Harry without menace for a while.

However, it seemed that Harry's change in facial expression wouldn't go entirely unnoticed.

"What's the deal, Harry?" Ron demanded, "Why are you being nice to Malfoy all of a sudden?"

Harry wasn't sure he would call it _being nice_, but he didn't think he'd been acting all that different-Malfoy was the one acting different! Right?

Right.

Harry though couldn't help but remember Malfoy's words from earlier in the week: _'why is it so hard to stay angry at you now?' _Maybe that was the same thing going on with Harry as well, maybe Malfoy had become more tolerable and so it wasn't as easy to get angry with him? That had to be it, that seemed to be the most logical explanation.

"Is it because his mom's sending you things?" Ron demanded, "Just remember she's probably a death eater too."

Harry frowned, as he thought about nice Mrs. Malfoy who'd taken such good care of him while at the hospital and was now sending him sweets and winter accessories…it used to be so easy for him to imagine her as being completely evil…just like it used to be easy to imagine Mr. Malfoy being an evil death eater-now it took some effort.

"I know, Ron," Harry sighed, "it's probably some ridiculously elaborate plot...you'd think these people had never heard of Ockham's Razor."

Ron blinked in confusion, "Whose razor?"

"Oh, Ron, honestly!" Hermione huffed in frustration, "You can't tell me you've never heard of that!"

The two of them began bickering about muggles and logical solutions as Harry turned to stare at his food, by far the safest thing in the room to stare at. He could stare-sans-malice at his food all he wanted and no one would think anything of it.

"Now, _he's _staring at _you_!" Ron exclaimed in indignation, interrupting Hermione's explanation for Ockham's Razor. "What is going on here?"

Harry immediately looked up and his and Malfoy's eyes met before Malfoy smirked and whispered something to Crabbe that made everyone around them laugh.

"Bloody prat's talking about you!" Ron yelled, seething. "He'd better run back to his dungeons after dinner or I'll bust his face in!"

"You most certainly will not!" Hermione gasped.

"You can't do that!" Harry agreed, "He probably wasn't even talking about me!"

"Why are you defending him?" Ron demanded, and that just raised more questions in Harry's mind, "Did I miss something, Harry? Because I'm pretty sure he's just a prat and he deserves to be punched!"

"Maybe sometimes-probably most times," Harry conceded, "but not right now!"

"I said after dinner," Ron reminded him, as if it were crazy that he'd stop eating to get into a fight.


	4. Chapter 4

First of all,_** Thanks so much for all the reviews! **_I apologize for not thanking everyone earlier, but I'm a bit out of practice with this whole fic thing XD

Also, I've had a bit of an accident with another fic and I'm now SUPERPISSED at this fic, because it's totally NOT MY FAULT D: so that mean's it's this fic's fault...WHHHHHYYYYYYY TIMYDAMONKEY WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY?

Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and there will be more in a few days...and that is all

* * *

**_Chapter Four!_**

Sunday afternoon Professor McGonagall approached him and said he was needed in the headmaster's office, Harry slowly made his way there, remembering vividly the story Dumbledore told during History of Magic and wondered what the man could possibly have to say now.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully, "you have someone who would like to speak to you, he'll be here shortly, but this reminds me of the time when my Great Uncle Margaret-his parents wanted to give him a name that would build character-came to visit me on a Hogsmeade weekend when I was in third year. He bought me my first alcoholic beverage-firewhiskey as I recall- and I never will forget what he said to me as a toast. He said, 'Remember, boy, if you ever meet a man with a woman's name, never try to drink him under the table, and if anyone asks you for money say you've none to spare.' I never was able to out-drink my Great Uncle Margie, and I've always found it easier to give a begging witch or wizard a knut than refuse to give them money. You see, Harry, you must remember, that no matter how poor a wizard gets he'll always have his wand."

"Truer words were never spoken," a warm and extremely amused voice said from the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

Harry quickly turned around to see who'd arrived.

"Remus!"

"I'm so happy to see you well," Remus sighed, contented. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you before, they don't allow werewolf visitors in St. Mungo's.

Then there was the moon…"

Harry ran up to Remus and hugged the man tightly, replying, "I don't care."

Remus, after a moment, patted and rubbed Harry's back.

"Have you been recovering well?" Remus asked him.

"Yes," Harry replied into the man's chest.

"Are you all caught up on your classwork?"

Harry snorted and shook his head, "I'm way behind, they've had to change my schedule all around so I wouldn't have to leave school."

Remus chuckled and assured him, "It won't take you long at all before things are back to normal."

"I hope so," Harry said, finally releasing the man.

Remus then began to study Harry and exclaimed, "Your eyes! You don't need glasses anymore?"

"No," Harry admitted, shyly, "they accidentally fixed my vision."

"Accidentally?" Remus laughed, "A very fortuitous mistake, then."

Harry beamed.

"Any other differences I should know about," Remus asked, his tone light and Harry shook his head with a slight smile. "Though, you do smell a bit odd…but that's probably from being in the hospital-the smells there can linger on a person for months."

"How do you know how I smell anyway?" Harry asked, "Isn't that an odd thing to notice?"

"My senses are slightly heightened due to being a werewolf," Remus informed him, "I can see, smell, and hear a little better than the average human-it's nothing to be concerned about."

"Oh, I wasn't!" Harry assured him, "I was just curious."

"An admirable trait," Dumbledore interjected cheerfully, "why when I was a very young boy-"

"The headmaster's teaching me History," Harry announced in an effort to avoid anymore stories.

"Oh?" Remus asked, clearly surprised, "I heard you were quite the professor in your day, sir."

"That came from quite a bit of practice," Dumbledore replied, "when I first began teaching-"

"Malfoy and I have the class together," Harry declared, "we were both injured!"

"Yes," Remus said, smiling at Harry's attempts to steer the conversation, "I heard you two took quite the spill. Is it true that you broke Mr. Malfoy's fall?"

"Yes," Harry admitted in embarrassment.

Remus merely chuckled, and surprisingly Dumbledore didn't have a story for that.

"We have no doubts, of course," Dumbledore explained, "that both of them will be up to speed in no time and will be able to return to classes with their housemates."

"Well, that's great news," Remus told Harry with a grand smile, which for unknown reasons made Harry compare it to Narcissa Malfoy's small and soft smile. Harry shook his head to rid himself of the thought, and Remus' brow furrowed slightly, "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking about something," Harry replied, "but it's nothing."

"I always found it curious that thoughts were only worth a knut," Dumbledore murmured. "Thoughts, my dear boy, are very valuable things and they are certainly more than 'nothing.'"

Harry smiled at that and replied, "I was just thinking about what's happened since the accident, nothing serious."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"So long as nothing's worrying you," Remus told Harry with a gentle smile that much more similar to Mrs. Malfoy's and why did Harry keep thinking about her?

"No," Harry replied, "everything's been going pretty well."

"Good, good…you should write more, Harry," Remus said, "I don't often get to hear from you."

"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, looking away guiltily.

"No need to be sorry," Remus told him, "it's a problem which can be easily fixed and I'm certainly not upset with you."

"Did you go to school with the Malfoys?" Harry asked, suddenly, not sure why.

Remus looked a bit thrown off, and Dumbledore continued twinkling like a little star.

"We may have been in school together for a year or two," Remus said thoughtfully, "but honestly I don't recall ever seeing them."

"First years very rarely dwell upon 7th years, Harry," Dumbledore interjected, "and it certainly goes both ways-what would a 17 year old want to talk to an 11 year old for? There may was well be worlds between them. Do you recall befriending any 7th years, Harry?"

"No," Harry agreed, "You're right, I didn't know he was that much older than my parents and everyone…"

"Why do you ask, Harry?" Remus queried, looking slightly troubled.

"I was just curious," Harry replied.

"Oh, do tell him the truth," Dumbledore encouraged, "you've no reason to fear Remus."

"Unless it's a full moon," Remus corrected, "but he's right, you can tell me what's going on."

Harry flushed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "I met them, in the hospital."

Remus looked quite alarmed now, and turned to say something to Dumbledore, who held up a hand to stop him.

"Go on, Harry."

"I left my room, and got tired and sat down on a bench, and Mrs. Malfoy found me and stayed with me until I woke up-"

"What?" Remus asked, "You were asleep? Why did you leave your room?"

"I got scared and confused," Harry explained, embarrassed, "and left, and after Mrs. Malfoy found me, I passed out or something-"

Remus hissed as if something had burned him.

"-and when I woke up, she was still with me, but talking to Mr. Malfoy, and she talked him into carrying me back to my room."

Remus, by this point, had his head in his hands and was rubbing his face.

"Do finish," Dumbledore encouraged.

"And then they came to visit me later-"

"What?"

"And then Mrs. Malfoy started sending me gifts."

"What?"

"They seem to be quite taken with our young Harry," Dumbledore told Remus as if he were talking about the weather. "They've sent some lovely gifts-"

"Is this safe?" Remus croaked out, "this can't be safe!"

"It's quite safe," Dumbledore assured him. "Even young Draco has become friendly with Harry-"

"No, he hasn't!" Harry protested, "we're just, um…not fighting right now, things will go back to normal when we feel better!"

Dumbledore continued to smile serenely.

Remus studied Harry for a moment and then mumured, "You said you were recovered."

"Apparently not!" Harry growled and crossed his arms, sinking down into his chair, blushing. This made Remus and Dumbledore chuckle at his behavior.

They spoke for a while more, before Remus had to leave, but he made Harry promise to write him once a week if he could. Harry, pleased that Remus cared so much about him, agreed.

That Monday, another care package, this time in purple paper with a shiny yellow ribbon, arrived from Mrs. Malfoy, she'd sent sugar quills and a few packs of every flavor beans and underneath all the candies was, as Harry had been hoping to get last week, a silvery-grey hat.

"She must think you're cold," Hermione muttered, though it wouldn't be too hard to assume considering the weather was beginning to get blisteringly cold.

"Cor, mate!" Ron exclaimed happily, "The special edition every flavor beans!"

Harry tossed him a couple of bags of them and Ron began eating them instead of his breakfast, which made Hermione lecture him and Ron began defending himself while spewing candy crumbs all over the table. The surrounding Gryffindors groaned and complained about Ron's disgusting eating habits, and Ron's ears tinged pink.

"Hey," Ron exclaimed, spewing jelly beans across the table, which made Lavender, Ginny, and Pavarti scream, "Do you think if you asked, she'd send some of the special edition chocolate frogs? They're re-releasing the legendary wizards!"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione chided, "just last week you were complaining about how Mrs. Malfoy was a death eater and trying to kill him!"

"I'm not going to ask for something," Harry replied, as if Hermione hadn't spoken, "that would be taking advantage."

"You should probably thank her," Hermione advised Harry.

"Yeah," Ron said with a snort, "thank her for not charming the scarf to strangle you."

"You just told me to ask her for chocolate frogs!" Harry exclaimed in confusion, "You're being stupid, Ron!"

Ron didn't seem to follow that he was lacking logic in this argument and ate some more candy.

"You should still write her a thank-you note," Hermione told Harry, "especially since you seem to like getting her gifts…she may stop if she thinks you don't care."

Harry did care, he really didn't want to stop getting care packages from Mrs. Malfoy even though he was sure the longer he got them the more likely it was that she would begin poisoning him…and yet, he really liked feeling like a normal student with normal, living parents…even though that simply wasn't the case. Harry could imagine any harm coming from vaguely pretending that the gifts were sent by his own mother…

Harry decided he would write a letter to Mrs. Malfoy and it would be the best damn letter she'd ever gotten…from him. Writing a great letter meant he had to go the extra mile, he had to do this thing right, which meant he had to find out exactly what went into a nice letter to a probable death eater who was sending him sweets winter accessories. It was then that Harry realized he had no idea how to write such a letter.

But…Harry knew someone who did.

* * *

That Tuesday Harry hurried to the History of Magic classroom so he could arrive before Dumbledore and sat down next to Malfoy who steadfastly ignored his presence.

Harry couldn't believe he was going to do this, he couldn't believe he was actually going to attempt to start a civil conversation with Malfoy-it was one thing to stare-without-malice, but another to speak without malice. He took a deep breath and timidly asked, "Um, Malfoy, remember that conversation we had about how generous your mom was?"

"You mean the one where I-"

"The one in Care of Magical Creatures," Harry sighed, hoping to cut off whatever stupid comment Malfoy was sure to make in an attempt to piss Harry off, "look-I just wanted to thank your mother for sending me presents."

Malfoy smiled, Harry had never noticed how nice and perfectly straight his teeth were, and contentedly sighed, "As you should, Potter, a muggle-lover like you deserves none of my mother's loving generosity. That she chooses to bestow her care upon a filthy maggot such as yourself is a testament to her impeccable strength of character."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, and Malfoy smiled wistfully at the thought of his mother.

"Well, look, I just didn't know what to say when I wrote her," Harry said finally unable to stand Malfoy's clear affection for his mother any longer, "I wanted to know if there was something I should do."

"Ah, is love in the air, boys?" Dumbledore inquired as he swept into the room looking like a twinkling-eyed walking koi pond-where did the man get his robes, honestly. "You are of the same age I was when I first began writing to the fairer sex, trying to figure out the best way under their layered robes using only the written word-"

"No!" Harry exclaimed in horror, "That's not what-"

"We're talking about my mother!" Malfoy yelled, "The mere thought of-"

"She's married!" Harry added, "And far too dignified for-"

"Oh my," Dumbledore exclaimed, looking surprised, "I did quite misunderstand, I apologize! This would not be the first time I mistook a situation, the important thing is to learn from mistakes" Dumbledore told them, "it's just like when I returned to that seedy bar south of the Mexican border after I'd finished discovering the 12 uses of dragon's blood." The boys groaned, but Dumbledore ignored it brilliantly, "I found that old man to still be there, and this time when he asked me for money I gave him some."

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the boys who looked shocked they'd gotten off so easily, and then Dumbledore continued the story, "That didn't stop him from hexing me again though, and I suddenly found myself in the Southern American rain forest. I ended up having to survive there on my own for a month, let me tell you, boys, you never want to go that long in your life without knowing a bug repellant spell! I garnered quite the injury due to bug bites in my nether region that is simply not polite to mention-there's no need to look so frightened boys! Would you like for me to teach you bug repelling spell now, so you'll never need to fear again?"

"I thought we were going to talk about Merlin today, sir," Harry reminded the headmaster.

"Oh, yes, quite, but this story won't take long to finish," Dumbledore assured them.

Nearly an hour later Dumbledore finally finished his tale, "And that was how I found out that Nicolas Flamel's traveling companion was actually his wife and not his sister-he then kicked me quite hard in the area which had been injured by those bugs I'd mentioned before, and we later used the curious mix of bodily fluids and flora that I vomited up as a base for creating the philosopher's stone."

Dumbledore then checked his pocket watch and gasped at the time, "Well, boys, I'm afraid I've used up too much of the class time telling stories to begin a lecture now! I'll just have to let you leave a few minutes ear-"

Both boys left the classroom at a run, and then Dumbledore remembered that he forgot to assign reading again.

Harry and Draco hid in the same alcove.

"I swear to god, Potter, if I have to hear anymore about Dumbledore's love-life, I will kill you and then myself," Malfoy hissed as quietly as he could so as not to attract Dumbledore's attentions.

"Why wait?" Harry asked, seriously, "I've never been more disturbed in my life, you know they're hundreds of years older than Dumbledore, don't you?"

Malfoy whimpered and hit his head against the stone wall.

"Hey," Harry said, "umm, since we have time before our next classes, could you tell me what to write to your mother?"

"Completely hopeless, Potter," Malfoy muttered, and then told Harry to: "just be polite and sincere. I'm sure she understands that you're awful muggle-lover with no manners and will appreciate the effort."

Harry rolled his eyes, and sarcastically muttered, "Thanks for your help, Malfoy."

* * *

That's all for now, hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you're enjoying it!_** And I apologize in advance, I know you guys hate Ron, but there's quite a bit of him in this chapter-he _is_ Harry's best friend even if he is unlikeable!

**_Chapter Five!_**

_Polite and sincere_, Harry thought to himself that night in the common room, he could do that. It couldn't be that hard. Admittedly, he'd never really gone for that angle, but surely it wasn't completely out of reach, right?

Harry produced a piece of parchment and began nibbling on one of the sugar quills, Mrs. Malfoy had sent him. He dipped it in ink and scribbled out a greeting.

"Hey mate," Ron said, plopping down on the couch next to Harry, causing a large blot of ink to splash onto the parchment, "Who're you writing?"

"Don't freak out, but-"

"Malfoy's mum?" Ron demanded, "You can't tell me you're honestly doing that!"

"I am," Harry assured him, "I want to thank her, I always thank your mom for sending me gifts, would you like for me to stop doing that?"

Ron shrugged, he clearly didn't care about people showing his mother respect until they began directly and loudly insulting her.

Harry rolled his eyes and balled up the ruined parchment and chucked it at Ron's head, "Now I have to start all over-"

"Didn't look like you'd written much to begin with," Ron replied as he straightened out the paper so he could spit whatever he'd been chewing on into it. A nearby third year stared at him with open disgust, so Ron threw it at him.

Harry turned to stare at Ron in disbelief.

"What?" Ron demanded, "can't chew gum all day! I've tried, it just gets gross after a while."

"Yeah," Harry snorted, "exactly, it's gross."

"At least I'm not writing death eaters thank you notes," Ron huffed out and he crossed his arms and looked away from Harry.

"You know," Harry needled, "when she writes back she'll probably ask what kind of sweets I like…"

Ron's head tilted slightly back to Harry's general direction.

"That means," Harry continued, "that I can ask for the special edition chocolate frogs."

"You think?" Ron asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure," Harry replied, "that's how these things normally seem to work. I'm no expert of course, but…"

"Well, what are you waiting for!" Ron demanded, "You've got a letter to write!"

* * *

"In the stands again, Potter?" Ginny asked with a sly grin as she hovered before him.

Harry smiled and nodded, he would once again only be watching practice because he was still taking the digestive potion which meant he still couldn't do too much physical activity. He knew he didn't have to attend practices, but he didn't want to be too separated from the team or the game itself…not only that but he was hoping that whatever anxiety the last practice had caused him would go away if he continued to expose himself to it. He didn't want to be scared of quidditch.

Quidditch was his life.

Or so it seemed most of the time, Harry just felt so calm yet energized when he was in the air. Being too scared to fly ever again made him more anxious than the thought of flying and falling again…that had to be a good sign, right? That he did want to be able to fly in the future and feel the all-encompassing joy that it brought him.

So Harry would continue to attend practices and when he was cleared to play again, he would play…he still had some time to work on this alien nervousness.

But after how bad last practice made him feel he'd brought his parchment and quills with him today, he was hoping that attempting to write the letter to Mrs. Malfoy would be able to distract him from any anxiety he may feel.

"Better not let me distract you, Weasley," Harry told Ginny.

"You wish!" She replied, grinning widely at him. "Besides you're the one doing homework, you're definitely going to be the one losing concentration-what with all this excitement."

Harry laughed, and all the players were called together to discuss the drills for today, so Ginny waved goodbye to him and sped off toward the other players. Harry sighed and stared down at his parchment, in spite of having gained Ron's approval, he still wasn't sure what to write.

The process of writing to an unfamiliar person, who was also an adult, was far more difficult than he'd anticipated. _Polite and sincere_, Malfoy had said, Harry thoughtfully sucked on his last sugar quill-surprised that he hadn't gotten a sugar high from how quickly he'd gone through them-this couldn't be as hard as he was making it out to be. Maybe he should try writing someone else…Harry groaned when he realized he was supposed to write a letter to Remus as well, this was getting to be worse than homework! Not to mention more time consuming!

As time went on Ginny ended up being right about one thing, quidditch did end up being a lot more interesting than his "homework" and he got very little written. He also began feeling keenly jealous of how all of his teammates could fly at breakneck speeds on their brooms. It seemed that Harry had nothing to fear, his desire to fly quickly sprang up in spite of his fears.

* * *

That Thursday, Malfoy arrived ten minutes late to Defense and plopped down in the empty seat next to Harry, appearing completely at ease and unaffected by the loss of points he received for tardiness.

"How's the letter coming?" He asked once the teacher's attention was elsewhere.

"Politely and sincerely," Harry sighed.

Malfoy snorted, "You haven't even started have you?"

"I've started," Harry murmured defensively.

"Only you could be so inept at writing letters," Malfoy scoffed and snatched a piece of parchment away from Harry. "Honestly, Potter, you'd think you'd never had basic etiquette lessons."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, sarcastically, "who do I think I am?"

"Exactly what I've been saying all along," Malfoy sighed, but his concentration was focused on what he scribbled onto the stolen piece of parchment. After a few more moments, Malfoy slid the parchment back over to Harry and it was about halfway covered in incredibly neat handwriting.

Malfoy studied his handiwork for a second and then nodded, "Now, obviously you can't use that-"

"Mr. Malfoy, there's no talking. 10 points from Slytherin."

Malfoy stared dispassionately at the professor for several seconds before continued, "Obviously you can't use that, Potter, as you probably don't know what half of those words mean and my mother would surely recognize my keen diction and artistic prose, but that should give you some idea of what to write."

Harry then looked more closely at the scribbles as Malfoy was docked another 10 points, and realized that it was indeed a polite and extravagantly flattering letter to Mrs. Malfoy. However, there was _no way _that Harry could or would write something even remotely similar to that.

…but there was a distinct possibility that Harry might become desperate enough to actually use Malfoy's Primer to Writing Malfoys. He carefully folded the parchment and deposited it in his bag.

Friday, after classes he studied Malfoy's letter and decided that it _definitely_ wouldn't work…and Harry needed to get a move on so he could get this sent tonight. He wanted to make sure Mrs. Malfoy got his letter well before Monday.

Finally, a solution came to him, Harry just decided to act like he was writing to Hermione, saying only acceptable and proper things and writing as sophisticatedly as he could. That should work.

Now onto Remus' letter…Harry frowned when he realized he didn't know what to write, again, and was too lazy to put even more effort into writing letters this week, and then began copying the basic ideas from the letter to Mrs. Malfoy, while adding a few personal details.

Now before he could change his mind he sealed both letters and ran up to the owlery.

Once he was back in the common room, a 3rd year with a bandaged arm cautiously approached him and said that Madam Pomfrey wanted to see him before dinner.

"I bet she does," Harry groaned and he slowly made his way up to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey directed him over to a bed and swept her wand over him in a cursory examination, then he began poking and prodding his belly asking if anything hurt. This was pretty normal, she did this every time it was time for another dose of the digestive potion.

"Now, dinner is in," she checked her watch, "half an hour, and I'll expect to see you back here an hour after you've finished eating."

This was not normal.

"Bring some pajamas with you," she added, "I want to keep you for observation tonight-if something goes wrong it'll require immediate attention."

Not normal at all…

"I don't have to take the potion anymore?" Harry asked in excitement, that meant he could play quidditch again!

"We're going to check and see," Madam Pomfrey replied, "you haven't had any abdominal pain in a few days so I feel like it's time to see how you'll do without the potion."

"And then I can play quidditch?"

Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows rose in surprise and then she replied, "I'll let you know when I think you're ready to play sports again."

Harry groaned and sprawled out on the bed in frustration.

"Well, get a move on, Mr. Potter, a first year potions class is about to let out and I'll have students that will need immediate attention."

* * *

"And," Harry said excitedly to Ron and Hermione at dinner, "this means I can play quidditch again!"

Ron cheered and patted Harry on the back, "Just in time to get you back into shape for next year!"

Harry beamed and looked over to Hermione who was smiling but her eyebrows were furrowed, as though something were bothering her.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Harry asked. "Did something happen?"

"Can you remember the last game?" She asked, her voice trying to sound light and curious.

"No," Harry replied, "I haven't been able to remember anything that happened after the first hour…" Harry then realized he knew where this was going, and couldn't help but feel a bit of ire at what Hermione was implying, "Do you think that I shouldn't play because of the accident?"

"That's not it!" Hermione replied, quickly, "I just wanted to know if _you _wanted to play or if you felt like you had to."

"That's stupid, Hermione," Harry sighed, "of course I want to play. Even if I could remember what happened I'd want to play. This isn't the first time I've been injured while playing quidditch!"

Ron snickered in agreement, "Yeah, if Harry let every accident he was in keep him from doing something-"

"Okay, I get it!" Hermione said holding her hands up in surrender with a _real_ smile on her face, "You're right, I shouldn't doubt you, Harry."

Harry grabbed her around the shoulders and gave her a little hug, and she pressed her head against his.

"But wait, you said you have to stay in the hospital wing?" Ron asked, "If she's taking you off the potion, doesn't that mean you're better?"

"Who knows," Harry replied with a shrug, "I'll just do it so at least some things can go back to normal."

"Yeah," Ron agreed easily.

"If you want, we can up to the hospital wing before curfew to help you catch up on lessons," Hermione suggested.

"That'd be great," Harry replied, "it's always so boring up there."

"You will be able to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, right?" Hermione asked

"She just said for me to stay overnight," Harry said rolling his eyes, "it's really no big deal."

"Oh good," Hermione said with a smile, "I wanted to start Christmas shopping and I need your help to pick something out for my dad."

"Hermione, it's only November!" Ron groaned, "Why can't you wait till December like normal people?"

Hermione huffed and replied, "Well, I'll remember this when I go shopping for your present, Ronald!"

* * *

That's it for now, hope you liked it!


	6. Chapter 6

**_Many thanks to those who reviewed! It's so nice to hear your thoughts!_**

This chapter's pretty fun, I liked writing this, even if it is a little silly at parts

**_Chapter Six!_**

Harry was summoned to the headmaster's office that Sunday and Harry couldn't help but hope it was because Remus had come to visit again.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said brightly upon seeing him, "how have you been doing?"

"Pretty well," Harry replied, hoping to find out why he was here as soon as possible.

"Madam Pomfrey has informed that she's taken you off of your last potion."

"Yes," Harry replied, smiling. "I'm all better now."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, "That is indeed very good news, which is part of the reason I've called you here. I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that you have not been placed into an Herbology class."

Harry shook his head.

"Now that you have recovered, you're now able to take part in classes once more-we didn't wish to have you around hazardous plants and especially not poisonous ones until you were fully recovered," Dumbledore explained. "Now, as you extremely behind because of your inability to catch up, Professor Sprout has agreed to teach you in individual study Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2pm."

Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't just had McGonagall tell him all that…

"Now, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, knitting his fingers together and peering closely at Harry. "There has been some concern over your safety in certain courses, such as Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures…"

"Why?" Harry asked, extremely confused now, "I'm fine, I was fine before."

"Are you quite sure that the classes aren't going to be too demanding for you?" Dumbledore asked, seriously. "Please feel free to share any thoughts you have."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, "It's really not a big deal, I'm all better now."

"As I suspected," Dumbledore agreed with a smile. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"When can I play quidditch again?"

Dumbledore chuckled merrily and replied, "Whenever Madam Pomfrey clears you for it. Now, would you like a lemon drop?"

* * *

The next Monday, it was fairly easy to tell that Mrs. Malfoy had received his letter, because the parcel she'd sent was larger than normal. It was wrapped in red paper with white ribbon and Harry could feel his cheeks growing warm as everyone looked over at him. He did his best to ignore everyone and opened the gift. Mrs. Malfoy had sent him a green winter cloak made of impossibly soft and thick material, and in the very sweet letter she'd included she said she picked the color so it would match his eyes.

The people around him began exclaiming over it, and Hermione lifted the top of the cloak out of the box to examine it, so it was easy to overlook the fact that a second owl dropped a letter down onto Harry's lap.

Harry could tell from the type of parchment that it was Remus, and since it felt light and everyone was making such a huge deal about the cloak. He placed the letter into his bag with the resolve to open it later.

"This is a really nice cloak," Hermione informed Harry after her thorough examination, "look," she pointed to a shimmering spot on the collar, "that's a warming charm. I wish I had one-"

"Don't tell me you're going to go all _girl_ on us now, Hermione!" Ron whined, "First you'll start _talking_ about clothes and next you'll only be reading _Witches Weekly_ and telling me to spell my hair so it hangs down in my eyes-"

"You'd look so handsome if you did!" Lavender told Ron.

Pavarti eagerly chimed in, "She's right Ron, and it's the new fashion, soon every guy-"

Hermione rolled her eyes and scathingly informed Ron that she _was _a girl and a warming spell on her cloak would help keep her warm in Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy. She then left the table in a huff.

Harry shared a grimace with Ron and then gathered his things from the table to run them back up to the dormitory before his class.

* * *

Professor Snape had thought Harry's predicament quite the joke and had insisted, when it became clear how much class time Harry would miss, that Harry be placed back into the 5th year potions classes with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as they were the most behind…meaning they were just now halfway through the 4th year curriculum.

Unfortunately for Harry, McGonagall hadn't seemed to find fault with the suggestion.

Fortunately for Harry, Snape couldn't be as harsh a disciplinarian because the Hufflepuffs tended to cry whenever there were raised voices and human tears produced in fear or distress seemed to cause most potions to explode. Harry also realized he _had_ apparently needed the review, it would come in handy for the NEWTS-not that he'd ever tell Hermione.

He'd actually refrained from telling anyone about his potions class, and most just assumed he was receiving one-on-one tutoring, much like in his History of Magic class.

He'd kept his classmates from telling by raising his voice at them, and threatening to lower the class average. He'd learned much about interacting with the other houses these past couple weeks. He was also beginning to understand why the Gryffindors and the Slytherins didn't normally have classes with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

For that matter he couldn't help but wonder who thought it was a good idea to pair the ever-curious and interrogative Ravenclaws and the extremely accident-prone Hufflepuffs together for a class like _potions_. Surely someone must've realized this was the _worst_ possible combination in all of history.

Whenever a mistake was made it was completely disastrous, and at least two people ended up being sent directly to the hospital wing. Then all the Ravenclaws _needed_ to know what happened and _why_ and the rest of the class was spent with Professor Snape explaining any and all possible reactions and their effects. Then the Hufflepuffs would try so hard to avoid making those mistakes they'd make more and the process would repeat…

Needless to say, Harry had learned more about potions in the past two weeks than he had in his entire Hogwarts career.

After potions, Harry headed back to the common room feeling exhausted and wanting sweets, he hadn't checked earlier, but Mrs. Malfoy had surely sent him some sweets in addition to the cloak.

Harry found Ron anxiously waiting for him in the dormitory.

"Did she send sweets?" Ron asked, "What did the letter say? Did she ask what you wanted next time? Are you going to ask for the special edition chocolate frogs?"

Harry snorted and tossed Ron the letter, which surprisingly was very sugary and filled with affection. He pulled the new cloak out and looked the whole thing over for the first time and then swung it around his shoulders-it was very warm. Underneath the cloak had been the sweets, Harry grinned and sighed in relief, it looked like she'd gone all out and bought one of everything they had at Honeydukes.

Ron began snickering as he read the letter and then he cackled, "'I thought the lovely green would match your eyes just perfectly, _dear_.'"

"Shove off, Ron," Harry said and threw the only chocolate frog she'd sent at Ron's head to encourage him to shut up, the frog had in fact been one of Ron's coveted special editions.

Ron immediately dropped the letter in favor of the frog.

"It's like she can read my mind," Ron exclaimed, a tone of worship in his voice. "You should definitely," Ron grabbed the letter as a reference, " 'write soon, it was _so_ nice to hear from you.'"

"Ron," Harry warned, "I swear-"

"'I thought you could use a new cloak, the winters in Scotland are so dreadful, it's the same kind that _Draco_ has,'" Ron snickered and continued to read the letter out loud until Harry finally hexed him silent.

Harry then decided turning his hair green wouldn't hurt either.

Ron teased Harry mercilessly about the letter for the several days, even when Harry told him that he wouldn't share his sweets anymore. Then Malfoy found out through the grapevine that his beloved mother had seen fit to supply him with a "proper" cloak-Harry wasn't sure what made this cloak any more proper than his old one. But Malfoy spent every class they had together waxing poetic about how perfect and kind his mother was to those who loved muggles.

* * *

Harry didn't get around to reading Remus' letter until after dinner, he hadn't needed to wait until he had free time to read the letter because Remus' response had been simple:

_I don't know who you're trying to fool with that letter, but it certainly won't work on me!_

Harry decided that he'd better act like he was writing to Ron when he wrote to Remus. This made the response very easy to write, and Harry scribbled down every thing that had been happening over the past few days, and he then was able to make it to the owlery before curfew and send the letter off that night.

* * *

Tuesday, Harry wore the cloak down to Care of Magical creatures and the entire class time Lavender and Pavarti cooed over how nice it looked and how it really brought out his eyes. Harry was glad it was so cold or his red cheeks could be mistaken for blushing rather than the cold air…and it was, of course, caused by the cold air.

Ron stood next to him, rolling his eyes in commiseration whenever one of the girls said something particularly dim.

Malfoy was holding court with all of the Slytherins, they were all talking together, appearing in good spirits. They, for once, weren't loud enough to interrupt Hagrid's well-meant, but disjointed, lecture.

Lavender and Pavarti were now talking about how soft the material the cloak was made of, and it reminded Harry of how much Ginny had disliked it. She'd glared at him and said she could think of better colors that would go with his eyes, and how she'd never _ever_ accept gifts from a death eater, no matter how well they said it would go with her eyes.

Harry didn't think it was best to remind her of the fact that she had accepted a gift from a death eater…he for some reason felt like it would make things worse.

"And it looks so nice with your Gryffindor scarf," Lavender informed him with a sly look. Harry wondered why they were even talking to him, normally they avoided him like the plague.

Maybe nice clothes _did _make a difference in how the opposite sex perceived him…

Suddenly all the girls began cooing and exclaiming for reasons besides Harry's cloak, and Harry decided to actually pay attention to the lesson, Hagrid had called a group of unicorn mares and trotting obediently behind them were little golden unicorn foals.

"This lot were just born a few months ago," Hagrid told the class while he beamed down at the herd.

"They're so cute!" Lavender and Pavarti cooed as one.

Ron snorted and he and Harry shared a look of exasperation at their expense.

"Now, th'babes'll be little enough they'll be lettin' ya boys touch 'em," Hagrid added, and then encouraged all of them to come up and try to pet a unicorn.

Harry wondered how much damage he'd be able to rack up if a unicorn gored him for touching her foal, probably not enough to have to go back to St. Mungo's…

"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy asked from behind him.

"Of a unicorn?" Harry demanded in disbelief.

"Of the women," Malfoy replied, nodding to Lavender and Pavarti who were now petting unicorns like their hands were attracted to them by some unseen force. "You've been acting like you've been stupefied."

Harry really didn't want to discuss women with Malfoy so he thought of the most disturbing thing he could say, "I keep imagining Dumbledore and that story he told-"

Harry had to admire Malfoy's reflexes, he'd hexed Harry before Harry realized he'd even drawn his wand.

"I told you I'd kill you-" Malfoy growled drawing screams from the girls, "I told you, I _never_ wanted to hear about Dumbledore _ever_-"

"I told you to kill me after our last class!" Harry replied, rubbing something gooey off his cheek, "Why wait, Malfoy? We have history tomorrow!"

Malfoy made a frustrated noise and began pulling at his gelled hair, "And the story about the goblins!"

"I'm so glad I missed that one," Harry admitted, "Messed. Up."

"What is going on here?" Hermione demanded in the same voice she used when Ron and Harry weren't doing their homework in a timely manner, and Harry looked around at their audience-all of Gryffindor had their wands drawn, but they were confused enough by the otherwise innocuous conversation to not attack anyone.

"Nothing," Harry replied as he realized there was more goo in his hair, and now that he thought about it his whole body felt rather gooey, "What did you even hex me with, Malfoy?"

"It's my mum's favorite," Malfoy huffed, "she's so resourceful."

"I don't doubt her vast resources," Harry replied pointedly, "I asked what you did to me."

"You're covered in pink goo, mate," Ron told him.

"I'm going to tell your mother you ruined my new cloak," Harry brusquely informed Malfoy, "we'll see how kind and loving she is then."

"My mother is a saint!"

* * *

St. Malfoy was surprised when she received another letter from Harry Potter, it was obviously meant to anger her son and not herself. Amused that schoolboy antics never seemed to change she thought up a suitable "punishment" for Draco.

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**_Bunches of love to all of my awesome reviewers!_** Hope you all enjoy the update!

**_Chapter Seven_**

Taking Herbology alone eerily reminded Harry of working in the Dursleys' garden…except these plants could kill him. Professor Sprout clearly felt useless without a whole class of students and hovered around him repeating directions until it got to be more annoying than the Creevy brothers.

Not only that, but the work was surprisingly exhausting, more so than he'd remembered it ever being. Finally, Harry's arms felt too feeble and he'd asked to leave early.

Professor Sprout looked deeply concerned and insisted upon escorting him up to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem surprised to see him, and began fluttering around him making sure nothing was wrong.

"You've just exhausted yourself, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey declared finally, then she began ranting quietly while she prepared something, "I tried to tell that man you still weren't up for it…never mind my medical license…knows his limits, does he?"

Harry flushed and stared down at his dirty hands, he hadn't been able to clean himself up.

"Here," Madam Pomfrey said, "drink this."

Harry took it and studied it, "What is it?"

"A very mild sleeping and restorative draught," Madam Pomfrey replied, "you'll wake up in about 30 minutes and feel much better."

Harry took the potion.

Harry woke up sometime later and after Madam Pomfrey checked him over once more she sent him on his way, with a note excusing him from History of Magic. Not that Harry knew why she'd bothered, Dumbledore probably already knew he was in the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey did.

Harry decided to take his things up to the tower before dinner so he wouldn't have to carry his heavy bag around after dinner. Once there, Harry waited for Ron and Hermione to come up and once they'd arrived and dropped their things off, the three of them headed down to dinner.

"Potter!"

Harry turned to see Malfoy rushing toward him, face red with rage.

"Where were you?" Malfoy demanded, "How dare you leave me alone with that man?"

This reminded Harry of Madam Pomfrey's earlier rant when she too referred to Dumbledore as "that man."

"For once, it's nothing personal," Harry replied, "I was ill and had to go to the hospital wing!"

Malfoy didn't seem impressed, "Well, you look fine to me!"

"Because I've been to the hospital wing!" Harry insisted, "Pomfrey-"

"Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore's calm voice interjected and Malfoy immediately scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him. Dumbledore watched Malfoy in confusion before walking up to Harry and asking, "Are you quite all right, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, and he dug his excuse out from his pocket before handing it over to Dumbledore, "Sorry, I missed class."

"Oh, I'm sure it was for the best," Dumbledore assured him, "You know, in my early years of teaching I found it so difficult to get the proper amount of sleep, so I was in a constant state of exhaustion. Finally, when I began seeing Cornish pixies taunting me about my unimaginative, black teaching robes, I took a massive dose of a sleeping potion and slept for four days straight. However, I continued to attend every class and meal due to sleep-walking…it was most peculiar that no one noticed…Finally, I awoke during one of my transfigurations courses, only to discover I was lecturing on the different types of shoes worn in the orient. It was ever so embarrassing, and it is best to remain well-rested to avoid such situations."

Harry blinked in confusion and replied, "I'll do my best, sir?"

Dumbledore twinkled and added, "And do try to expand your wardrobe a bit, my dear boy, cheerful robes make for a cheerful man."

Dumbledore then swept off to his spot at the head table and Hermione grabbed Harry's arm to lead him off to the Gryffindor table.

* * *

That Thursday, Harry received a response from Remus who cheerfully commented on all that Harry had written, and added in advice where necessary. Remus also shared a funny story about a recent trip to the grocery which made Harry snicker until Hermione plucked the letter from his hand to see what was so funny. Harry quickly wrote off a response and sent it off with Hedwig who stopped by for a bit of Harry's breakfast.

Later that day, after a much easier Herbology lesson, Harry was able to make it to History of Magic and the relief was clear on Malfoy's face, until Dumbledore walked into the classroom and settled down with a heavy sigh, he then looked between Harry and Malfoy with dull, disappointed eyes.

"It has come to my attention that my stories have led to a physical altercation between the two of you," Dumbledore sighed wearily.

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a confused look.

"Hagrid told me that you hexed Mr. Potter," Dumbledore continued when neither reacted.

"He deserved it," Malfoy replied.

"And this scuffle began because of one of my stories?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, "Malfoy-"

"Draco," Dumbledore corrected gently.

"-doesn't like to hear about some of the subject matter you've seen fit to cover in class," Harry replied, "and I was trying to discuss the matter with him, and he got fairly defensive."

"I understand," Dumbledore said, good cheer returning quickly, "why it wasn't so long ago that I was a young sprout like yourselves, sunning in the garden of life. The world was my oyster…until one day I came upon my parents and they were, how shall I say…playing chess! My mother had my father in…_check _and I was so horrified by what I'd seen that I had an uncontrolled magical outburst and…well…my parents were never able to play chess again. In conclusion boys, there's nothing wrong with being frightened or disturbed by the act of…playing chess, just make sure that you don't bring your wand along to the…chess tournament."

Malfoy didn't seem comforted by this, and Harry was extremely confused as he'd never really been good at chess.

"Now," Dumbledore said brightly, "we will begin discussing Merlin today, not much is known about Merlin's early life, though conjectures have been made-I'm sure this is because, like myself, Merlin had a habit of getting himself into trouble. Why before my 20th birthday, I'd gotten into more scrapes and mishaps than I care to mention."

Dumbledore began chuckling at the fond memories of his youth, "Once, after challenging my brother to a broomstick race, I crashed into a cave and was kept there by a rather matronly dragon, who reminds me quite strongly of Madam Pomfrey-do refrain from telling her I said that-and in an effort to keep me warm during the cold nights in the cave, the dragon accidentally set fire to my robe. I was left with a rather large and intricate scar on my leg…and upon my first visit to London in 1915, I realized that my scar was a perfect duplicate of the map of the London Underground!"

Harry and Malfoy stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Would you boys like to see?" Dumbledore asked as he began hiking up his robes, revealing his hairy calves.

"_No_!"

"It's _really _not-hey, that's actually pretty cool, it's even got all the stops on it!"

"Why are they all different colors?" Malfoy queried.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, for all the different lines," Dumbledore explained, "they're color coded!"

"Ingenious!" Malfoy said in amazement, "the things those muggles think up!"

After class, when Harry and Malfoy were hiding in the alcove, Harry admitted, "That was probably the least creepy class we've had…"

"I should have hexed you sooner, Potter," Malfoy informed him. "I always knew good things would come from hexing you."

Harry rolled his eyes and countered, "I bet even better things would come from me hexing you-should we find out?"

"You hex me and I'll tell my mother!"

Harry snorted, "What happened to telling your father? You always used to threaten to tell him."

"He's not the one that sends you gifts," Draco sniffed haughtily, "and what would you do if mother didn't send you a gift?"

"Probaby noth-"

"Probably fling yourself off the astronomy tower!" Malfoy corrected, "You have a most unbecoming flair for the dramatic, Potter!"

"_I_ have the flair for the dramatic?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, "What sort of dream-world are you living in, Malfoy?"

"Ah, boys, I found you!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily, and joined them in alcove. Malfoy, let out a little choked scream, and in his haste to escape ran straight into the wall and fell unconscious and bloody-nosed to the floor.

"Looks like we have to take Malfoy-"

"Draco," Dumbledore reminded him, gently.

"-to the hospital wing immediately, wouldn't want him bloodying his robes!"

"They are rather nice robes," Dumbledore agreed thoughtfully, "indeed, Mr. Potter, you're quite right, I'll just have to give you two your reading assignment once he's all healed up."

Dumbledore looked up to Harry for visual confirmation, only to find that Harry was gone.

"Hmm," Dumbledore mumbled, "he must've had class."

* * *

"It must be so fascinating to have Dumbledore as your History of Magic professor!" Hermione gushed to Harry while they were in Care of Magical creatures.

"Yeah, something like that," Harry muttered.

"What has he been lecturing over?" Hermione asked, "Grindelwald? The first rise of You-know-who? Why he could tell you all the history of the past century from experience alone!"

"Well, he doesn't" Harry replied, "we've been supposed to cover Merlin for the last few weeks, and he gets side-tracked and tells us things we don't really want to know. Then he forgets to assign reading and we run and hide so he can't find-"

"And now we have to find a new alcove! Potter, why are you always so loud!" Malfoy whined melodramatically, "He'll be waiting for us next week and there will be no escape! Have your eyes always been that color? You've ruined us, Potter! What's the matter with you!"

"What?" Harry demanded, "what about my eyes?"

"Have they always been that color or have you been getting attacked by Hufflepuffs armed with color-changing spells?" Malfoy demanded.

"I've always had green eyes," Harry replied, clearly confused, "what does that have to do with Dumbledore?"

"Nothing!" Malfoy growled, "Are you always this slow?"

"Harry's not slow," Hermione interjected, "well, not normally…actually, yes, he is."

"Hermione?" Harry exclaimed, "Why-"

"Betrayed by your own kind!" Malfoy cackled, "How poetic, you should keep better company."

"Like Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry countered scornfully.

"I'm maybe not the best example," Malfoy conceded, "but nonetheless, you should keep better company, you seem-"

"What?" Harry asked suddenly curious.

"I don't know," Malfoy replied, tilting his head thoughtfully, "let me think about it."

Malfoy didn't speak to him for the rest of the week.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Tons of love to everyone who reviewed! Thanks muchly!_ **

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**_Chapter Eight!_**

Saturday, Harry was called up to the headmaster's office, probably to be lectured about over-exerting himself. He'd already gotten lectured by McGonagall, so it logically followed that Dumbledore would do the same. It seemed Harry never got lectured just once.

Instead, Dumbledore seemed to have a letter for him.

"There were some inquiries over how you would spend the holidays," Dumbledore told Harry, "originally it was planned that you would stay here and catch up on your studies, is that still the case, I notice you are still signed up to stay."

Harry nodded.

"Well," Dumbledore held out an envelope, "I have this for you."

Harry took the letter and opened it up, after a second of reading, Harry looked up, shocked.

"I thought you may have that reaction," Dumbledore chuckled.

"This," Harry said waving the letter, "this can't be right! Or safe!"

Harry gaped and tried to figure out what to say next, "They can't be serious!"

"Oh, I assure you Mrs. Malfoy is indeed serious," Dumbledore told Harry, "she has been constantly inquiring about your well-being."

Harry remembered all the times Dumbledore had said people had been asking about him…did that mean it had been _Narcissa_ _Malfoy_ all this time?

"She's even written almost as many times as Mrs. Weasley," Dumbledore continued, "I must say I've never had this many mothers contact me over one student's well-being."

"Well, what do I do about _this_?" Harry demanded, waving the letter so hard it wrinkled.

"It's quite simple, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "simply decide whether or not you'd like to go and then send an owl saying what you've decided."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, incredulously, "You think it's okay for me to go to the…_Annual Malfoy Family Yule Feast_?"

"Honestly?" Dumbledore replied, "I think she would have tried to hurt you several times over if that had been her intent, each week she sends you perfectly safe treats and clothing and not once have our tests turned up any evidence of foul play. In addition, I, myself, have been invited to go along with you should you desire to go. So I think you will be quite safe. Not only that," Dumbledore finished brightly, "but she does seem quite fond of you. You have such of way of winning people over, Harry."

* * *

"My mother told me to give you this, Potter," Malfoy declared, holding out a parcel-Harry already had another box of biscuits as it was Monday. Malfoy shuffled a bit nervously and added, looking a bit embarrassed, "And she told me to apologize for ruining your cloak...so that's the best you're going to get. Take it or leave it."

Harry rolled his eyes and took the second parcel and opened it, he then promptly flushed, it was another green cloak-Clearly meant to replace the "ruined" one that had remained pink in a few places after Harry had spelled the goo off of it.

Malfoy was currently squinting at Harry, his expression a bit confused.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"When did you get rid of your glasses?"

"They've been gone since the accident!" Hermione exclaimed, "You seriously just now noticed?"

"Apparently you need some glasses, Malfoy," Harry teased.

"Best not to," Ron warned Draco, "I may like your mom well enough, since she sends sweets, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't break anything that was attached to your face if you were a big enough ass."

"Ron," Hermione and Harry chided more out of habit than anything else.

"It's just…" Malfoy seemed to have lost the right word, "they were ugly and they made you look ugly, and I think it's for the best that they're gone."

Harry blinked and then said, "Me too?"

Harry looked to Hermione and Ron for support, they both nodded rather empathetically.

"Yes," Harry said, more firmly, "me too."

Then Harry realized he should say something nice to Malfoy, "You, um…" Harry blinked and scrunched up his face in thought, "could have worse looking teeth."

"I try to practice good dental hygiene," Malfoy admitted.

"I really never liked my glasses," Harry conceded.

Malfoy sniffed and then studied Harry before finally nodding in approval and heading back over to the Slytherin table.

"That was weird."

* * *

The first snow finally fell that week, and Harry had gone out in his usual winter garb, but found that the garments weren't performing as well as they used to, probably due to how threadbare they'd gotten. He'd ended up leaving the other Gryffindor boys to go bundle up in warmer clothing.

The warmest things he had, he discovered, were all the things Mrs. Malfoy sent him-he'd been refraining from wearing them so Ginny wouldn't nag him and Lavender and Pavarti wouldn't hit on him. So as quickly as possible, Harry had thrown on the hat, gloves, scarf, and cloak and run back down to the common room where he was halted by numerous stares.

"Harry," Hermione said slowly into the silence, "Mrs. Malfoy seems to have…sent you clothes more suitable for a Slytherin poster child."

Harry examined his outerwear and then flushed so much he could even feel it on his gloved hands.

"Well," Harry said, plucking at the cuffs of his gloves, "they're the warmest things I've got."

He then rushed out and down to where he'd left his year mates, who began laughing and saying that now their snowball fight would have to be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. They'd all ganged up on him and began pounding him with snowballs, and then Harry drew his wand and began using it to fling snowballs back at them-because he only had so many hands-until they'd all collapsed, laughing and freezing, down into a snow bank.

"You're a one-man team, you are, mate," Ron, pink-cheeked and panting, told Harry.

"Well played, Potter," Seamus told him with a firm slap to the back, and Neville and Dean nodded in friendly praise and agreement.

Harry later felt brave enough to wear the get-up to dinner, to the shock of all the other houses. Lavender and Pavarti sat next to him at dinner, Ron and Hermione across from him.

"Now that the shock has passed," Hermione told him with a smile, "I must say that the colors do really suit you."

"It's true," Pavarti told him, slowly blinking her eyes.

Lavender pressed her breasts into his arm and Harry flushed, and she suggestively informed him, "You look _so handsome_."

"I don't know if he looks that good," Hermione told Lavender sharply, and Lavender pulled away and wrapped her robes around her. Harry mouthed 'thank you' to Hermione who rolled her eyes in clear amusement.

Harry ended up writing a long letter to Remus detailing the events surrounding the cloaks as well as the fun afternoon of snowball fighting. Remus quickly responded with a slightly related tale about the marauders in their 6th years and Harry couldn't help but smile when he read about their antics.


End file.
